


Porny Advent Drabbles

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Mostly porny drabbles describing Spike's holiday adventures.





	Porny Advent Drabbles

_**Porny Advent** _

A post-NFA reunion:  
  
Spike showed up at Giles’ London flat armed with a bottle of scotch and a Christmas sweater designed to made him look non-threatening.  
  
“So, I’m alive, uh, undead and…”  
  
“Yes, Buffy called me. Shut up and come in.” Giles grabbed the back of his neck and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth. Hot hands slid under his shirt and pulled it and the sweater over his head.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“What I should have done years ago. I just put the chains on the bathtub.” Giles tasted of champagne. He tugged Spike after him. “For old time’s sake.”

 

_**Peppermint** _

“Stop that,” Angel growled.  
  
Spike raised his eyebrows, all blue-eyed innocence, but kept twisting and sliding the candy cane in his mouth, like he didn’t know how obscene he looked. Angel forced his eyes down to his paperwork.  
  
Spike propped his hip on Angel’s desk and pulled the candy from his mouth with a slurp. “It’s not my fault you’re too stuck up to enjoy sweets.” Spike shrugged. “Or anything, really.”  
  
Papers scattered. The candy cane stuck to the carpet. Angel got a black eye and rug burns on his knees.  
  
But he did, indeed, enjoy the taste of peppermint.

 

_**An Old-Fashioned Christmas** _

Drusilla liked to open her presents under the tree. Directly under. And she got a bit excited when she liked what she got.  
  
Pine needles and droplets of wax shivered down around them. Drusilla cried out, arching against Spike as a drop hit her back. It was hard for room-temperature bodies to sweat, but they'd managed it, forming a slick sheen between them that glittered with reflected flames.  
  
The needles itched. Fire and wood were both dangerous, and the tinkle of ornaments shaking against each other kept him aware of that, but the tinsel in her hair and the mad glee in her eyes made it more than worth it.

 

_**Kittens** _

“Spike drank my eggnog!”  
  
“I did what now?”  
  
Dawn’s sneakers squeaked against wood flooring as she slid to a halt at the apartment entrance. “Spike?!”   
  
Spike looked over his armful of presents at the silver pointed Himalayan kitten with eggnog on its chin, clutched to Dawn’s chest. “You named a bleedin’ cat after me?”  
  
A scramble of paws, a crash, and a yowl sounded behind her. Dawn turned to shout, “Angel! Off the counter!”  
  
Dawn blushed. Spike glared death at her.  
  
Twenty minutes later, however, he had a silver and a brindled kitten curled together in his lap and didn’t mind.

 

_**Snowglobe** _

It wasn’t cold, though sometimes he imagined it was as the white flakes drifted past his bare skin. He couldn’t feel much, anymore - his body suffused with the tepid water, his arms long inured to being lashed behind him. He could push the fluid with silent screams, but why? Everything tasted of the plastic flakes that would tickle past him as the water swirled.   
  
If he squinted hard, he could see Wesley behind the glass. He said Spike looked so pretty in snow, dressed in silver chains, miniaturized by magic.  
  
He began to doubt he would let him out.

 

_**Fairy Lights** _

Buffy was folding laundry when she heard something crash on the roof. Fear of demons and/or raccoons faded when the scraping of roof-tiles was followed by Brit-swearing.  
  
Propping open the hall window she saw Spike tangled in a strand of rainbow-colored twinkle lights. He was battling them around his head while his shirt rode up, exposing delicious Spike belly.  
  
Suddenly feeling VERY festive, Buffy crawled out on the roof.  
  
“Was supposed to be a surprise.”  
  
Buffy pushed his shirt higher up his ribcage and helped him back from the fragile gutter. With her thighs.  
  
“Uh, love? This is the  _front_  porch roof.”

 

_**Holiday Cookie** _

“You smell bloody marvelous.” Spike nuzzled deep into Wesley’s collar.  
  
Wes bonked him with a wooden spoon. “That’s because I’m baking, you prat.”  
  
Spike scowled at the spoon, though he kept his hold around Wesley’s waist. “Watch it. That’s dangerous.”  
  
“It’s not the only thing that is.” Wes turned inside Spike’s arms and pulled their bodies flush.   
  
Spike smirked and licked a bit of batter from Wesley’s nose.   
  
So it was only appropriate that he be bent over the nearest counter.  
  
“OW! Why’s there a pan on my head?”  
  
Wes tossed the cookie sheet aside. “Because I’m baking. You prat.”

 

_**Wrapping Paper** _

Spike has never seen himself in eyeliner. He rubs the pencil back and forth, knowing when he’s gotten everywhere by the sting of pressure.  
  
His hair is also a bit of a work of faith. Most days he just wipes his hands straight back, trusting a generous gob of gel to do the trick. Others - today - he feels carefully, sculpting, lets a little bit loose for that ‘fucked’ look.  
  
The tight shirt was already on. Tighter jeans. A silver chain, a button-down for color.  
  
He runs a hand down the plane of his stomach. A good present needs proper wrapping.

 

_**Global Warming** _

“This is bollocks.” Spike scowled at the heavy rain pelting the hotel room window.  
  
Riley reached around his middle and rested his chin on his shoulder. “It’s just like the movie ‘White Christmas’. We’ll get our wacky friends together and put on a show.”  
  
Spike gave him a look worthy of that comment. “It’s sodding global warming is what it is.”  
  
Riley’s hands slipped into Spike’s jeans. “I’m more interested in vampire warming at the present.”  
  
Riley’s hands were hot and insistent, kneading warmth into cool flesh, stroking him hard. Spike leaned back and forgot all about his snowboarding plans.

 

_**Christmas Tree** _

“Let go,” Lindsey said. “You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”  
  
“Oi! I’ve been doing this since before you were born.” Spike tried to look dignified while fighting for the strand of lights. “You’re going to break them.”  
  
Lindsey let go and stepped back, hands in the air. “Fine. Fuck it up.”  
  
Spike, growling, went back to threading the lights through the ornaments on the tree.  
  
“Everyone knows you put the lights on first.”  
  
“That’s not going to help NOW, is it?”  
  
The ball at the tip of Lindsey’s Santa hat bounced against his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re pissed off.”

 

_**Santa** _

“Lorne should have been Santa.” Gunn shook his head over his cup of punch.  
  
“With my coloring? I’d have to find the exact right red. It’s impossible.”  
  
“Well, Angel’s scowl is scaring the kids.”  
  
Spike heaved a sigh and put down his drink. “I’m on it.”  
  
Gunn raised an eyebrow. “What can you do?”  
  
Spike threw a wink over his shoulder. “Sit on his lap and tell him I’ve been very naughty.”  
  
Gunn watched Spike drape himself across Angel and whisper in his ear. “We should stop this. Right?”  
  
Angel’s eyes widened and his scowl vanished. Lorne shrugged. “Whatever works.”

 

_**Mistletoe** _

A hard hand pulled Spike back from the exit. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just leave me like this!”  
  
Spike let his fingertips trail over the head of Angel’s cock, where it pressed urgently against his velour Santa pants. “What, you expect me to blow Santa in front of a line of kiddies and soccer moms?”  
  
Angel hissed and pushed Spike forward into the hallway. “I can’t have kids in my lap after you… you…” Angel glanced up, changed direction slightly and before Spike could ask what was going through his Neanderthal head, he growled, “Mistletoe” and slammed Spike against a wall, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.  
  
Spike rubbed his thigh up against Angel. “I think Santa’s a dirty old man.”  
  
“Santa’s taking a break.” Angel reached past Spike to open a door, and they tumbled together into an office – which, neither much cared. Santa had a little problem to take care of before he could get back to work.

 

_**Christmas Carol** _

Lindsey groaned so low and deep it felt like the sound of the friction between their bodies. Spike shifted his hips and he opened his mouth, panting, then biting his fuller lower lip, choking back a half-word that ended in a long, drawn out “yeah.”  
  
The sheets rustled as his feet sought purchase, lifting his body. His chest rose too, letting loose gasps from an open throat, like Spike’s dick was jabbing the air from him.  
  
Spike licked the salt from his neck, now a shiver and a higher-pitched moan answered him.  
  
Outside, carolers sang. Spike preferred Lindsey’s song.

 

_**Hot Chocolate** _

Gunn was anything but closed-minded, so after all the teasing and peeping-ghost tricks, he was all right with a corporeal Spike sliding up with a filthy leer and a suggestion. Besides, he had a bottle of scotch and chocolate syrup. A guy likes to be romanced.  
  
Spike laid back on the desk wearing nothing but a trail of chocolate that rippled and pooled over his uncurling abs. Gunn grabbed him by the dick. “I hope you don’t think that’s going to make me suck you off.”  
  
“I think you’ll do whatever you want to.”  
  
Gunn shrugged. He did love chocolate.

 

_**Dickens** _

Ladies in enormous crinolines and fur muffs swayed together on the television and Dawn sighed, snuggling against Spike and reaching to steal popcorn. “Christmas was  _magic_  when you were young, wasn’t it?”  
  
Spike didn’t know where to begin to scoff, but oddly, his first thought wasn’t boring church services and family dinners with nary an ornament in sight. No, he involuntarily thought back to Darla playing lady of the manor and Angelus locking him in the cellar until he was starved enough to agree to the older vampire's idea of ‘entertainment’.  
  
Spike squeezed Dawn’s shoulders. “Yep. Straight out of Dickens.”

 

_**Presents** _

Buffy carried the boxes marked “XMAS” up from the basement, but when she opened one and saw the sparkle-balls in their plastic holder, she lost her nerve. They weren’t special – but they were her mom’s. She couldn’t unpack them.  
  
The boxes sat in a corner of the living room, incriminating her lack of jolliness, for five days. Then she came home from work, miserable and burger-smelling, to find them… wrapped.  
  
Spike sat next to the giant presents. “Happy Christmas,” he said.  
  
“You got me… my own stuff.”  
  
“Nah. I got you a fresh start. Go on... open it.”

 

_**Red Ribbon and Bow** _

Angel ran his lips delicately over Spike’s smooth abs and then teasingly over the wide satin ribbon tied tightly around his cock and balls. He ran an appreciative hand down one muscular thigh and sat up so he could again admire the fury burning in Spike’s eyes behind the holly-adorned gag. The way he strained against his magically-enhanced bonds really brought out the beauty of his frame.  
  
“You always get me just what I wanted,” Angel leaned back to kiss Wesley.  
  
“You’re easy to shop for,” Wesley countered dryly. He stroked Spike’s flank. “Don’t say I never let you top.”

 

_**You'll shoot your eye out** _

“Ah! Bloody buggering FUCK.” Spike dropped the gun and grabbed his eye.  
  
Giles sighed. “Let me see it.” After a moment of unmanful batting away, Spike gave in and looked up, blinking through the pain.  
  
“This is why I don’t use bloody guns. Bad enough you don’t get to be up close when you kill.”  
  
“Your eye is fine, and I believe you scared the zombies away with your sissy-mary screaming.”  
  
Spike’s eye was blood-shot, wet with tears and a red welt growing on the tender eyelid. “Hurts.”  
  
“Shush. They’re gone for now. We’ll go with swords if they return.”

 

_**Scrooge** _

Spike set his fists on the desk. “She just needs another month. You don’t know what this girl’s got on her plate.”  
  
The plumber looked up at Spike, unimpressed. “I know you’re that vampire who can’t bite people, so don’t bother threatening me.”  
  
“I can get the money.”  
  
“I doubt that.”  
  
Spike slumped, then straightened. “I’m sure we can work something out, eh?” He hooked his belt and pulled it down.  
  
“Your ass isn’t legal tender.”   
  
Spike smelled arousal. He raised an eyebrow and bit his lip.  
  
The plumber shrugged. “One week. And the late fee still applies. Now strip.”

 

_**Happy Hannukah** _

"Ow!" Spike tried to look behind him, twisting in his bonds. "What the hell is that? Feels square."  
  
Willow giggled. Tara ducked her head and blushed. "T-that's the only painful part."  
  
"You said you wanted to play dreidel with us." Willow settled down in front of Spike, one hand cupping behind his head. "Now we take turns getting it to fall out."  
  
“How are you going to do that?”   
  
Willow smirked enigmatically.  
  
“And, uh, just what do you do if you win?”  
  
Tara whispered, “You should be more concerned what we do if we have to add to the pot.”

 

_**Christmas Turkey** _

The average rapist only takes about two minutes to get off, but it’s a long two minutes. This one seems longer than average. Spike stares at his bound wrists and considers buying a watch. He’s already run out of creative revenge scenarios to distract himself and is concentrating on how he could snap the bastard like a toothpick, if he didn’t have this chip.  
  
But no. Trussed up like a Christmas turkey. The rope isn’t thick. It feels like it will cut his hands off as he pulls against it. Eventually it will break. He hopes before the ‘timer pops’.

 

_**Paper Snowflake** _

Xander gaped at the mess spread out on the Magic Box’s back table. “What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“Making snowflakes.” Spike looked up from the table strewn with tiny diamonds of paper with a ‘duh’ expression.  
  
Dawn proudly spread the one she was working on. “For the windows.”  
  
Thinking primarily of how pissed Anya was going to be to find her scrap paper store raided, Xander picked up one of the snowflakes and unfolded its delicate structure.  
  
Bent-over figures grasped each other’s hips around the circle, above a ring of stylized cocks.  
  
Spike grinned. “Yeah, that one’s for you.”

 

_**Christmas Eve Shopping** _

“Honestly, are they giving away blow jobs?” Spike craned his neck, trying to see around the line of cars.

 “No,” Faith said.  “Would you sit your ass down?  I’m trying to drive.”

 “More like crawl.  Is every bastard in Cleveland trying to get to this mall?  Oi! That car turned right from the straight-only lane!  Get him!”

 Faith flexed her hands on the wheel.  “I’m not going to ‘get him’.  I wanna get through Christmas with my license.”  She shifted her seat back and raised an eyebrow. “If you want something to do, I hear they’re giving out blow jobs HERE.”

 

_**Christmas Morning** _

“Get up!” Lindsey shook Spike’s shoulder. Spike responded by burying his head under the pillow and mumbling something that sounded like “gehoff”.  
  
“It’s Christmas morning!” Lindsey hopped up on the bed and bounced a little. He couldn’t help himself – he had so many surprises prepared – many of which he was sure would facilitate steamy under-tree sex. Just thinking about the flavored lube and the suede flogger had him hard as a candy cane. He rocked his hips, nudging his recalcitrant lover with his erection.  
  
One arm snaked out and slapped at him. “Fugghoff.”  
  
Undaunted, Lindsey carried the presents to him.

 

_**Snowman** _

Spike lay sprawled on a snowbank like it was an easy chair, clad only in a Santa hat and a strategically placed scarf.  
  
Buffy dropped her skis.   
  
“Surprise.” Spike stretched out, putting the strategic position of his scarf in jeopardy. He locked his hands behind his head and wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
Buffy bent down, hands out, and looked to see if anyone was coming. “What are you DOING?”  
  
“It’s well off the path, no one’s looking, and you’ve been a very good girl. Santa’s given you a snowman.”  
  
Before Buffy could object, her snowman had tumbled her into his arms.

 

_**Shagged Out** _

First he’d given Angel his gift blow job, and that went over so well Angel had felt the need to return the favor, with leg-bowing interest. Then he’d gone over to Fred’s and given her a proper seeing-to, and since Wesley had been there, he killed two birds with one threesome. He had only gotten back to Lorne’s party in time to put his advanced demon physiology knowledge to good use and give Gunn a good solid grope under the mistletoe.  
  
So Spike woke up Christmas morning unsure where he was, and his plan failed – they all wanted more.


End file.
